Harry Potter and the End of the Innocence
by HPLuvr189
Summary: A story about one night, one moment, and one person that changes everything . . . HP 7TH BOOK
1. FIRST CHAPTER!

Harry Potter and the End of Dark Days: ADAPTATION #2 BY HPLUVR189  
  
*DISCLAIMER: NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS BELONG TO ME . . . THEY ARE FULL PROPERTY OF J.K. ROWLING; THE ONLY THINGS THAT ARE MY PROPERTY IS THE STORYLINE AND PLOT  
  
"Here on the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) we can exclusively reveal the proof that Peter Pettigrew, the recently discovered death in disguise murderer, was found dead near a pub in Bulgaria. All that was left of him were his mangled remains. No wizard or witch did this to him . . ." Harry dropped his quill, sat upright, and turned his head jerkily to the new radio he'd just received from Sirius, his godfather, and ex- convicted murder.It allowed Harry to get the WWN even though he still lived in Surrey with the Dursleys. The WWN was only available to wizards and witches with specially-programmed radios, now he had one. Harry never thought he could've liked a radio so much. It now allowed him to become familiar with wizard music, and since the Daily Prophet wouldn't deliver to the Dursleys due to Muggle-Wizard security problems, it allowed Harry to catch up on the happenings and occurrences taking place in the wizarding world, a place he longed to be very much. Hearing their music and hearing their news was the closest he'd ever be to their world, at least during the summer. Harry Potter, a boy, or man now, that was unusual in many different and amazing ways, was now sitting at his desk finishing a rather boring and dull essay for his teacher, Professor McGonagall, who instructed Transfiguration, on "Why the Avifors Spell Will be Useful in My Life." He had gotten into a spot of trouble at the end of sixth term, and been given extra and more difficult work than the others in his year. He groaned as he tried to think of a way to get out of this essay. What was on the outside of his window seemed much more appealing than sitting here, steaming hot and sweaty, writing an essay for a teacher who probably wouldn't even look at the measly two paragraphs he'd managed to write so far. He yearned to be outside, greeting the new, American girls that had moved in next door, whom were very nice-looking indeed. As much as he hated him, he thought that even 400 pound Dudley deserved some help, as it was apparent he was making quite a fool of himself. Harry couldn't help but laugh. He turned back to his hopeless piece of parchment and began attempting to think of something to say again. Yet, as always, his mind drifted ,but not to the beautiful and enticing surroundings, but to his girlfriend, Vicki Patterson. He and Vicki had met in sixth year. As more and more Americans came pouring into Hogwarts, he had met her that way. Although completely different in personality, they were in the same house and liked each other very much. People often said they were "the match made in heaven." They'd been seeing each other for a while, and their one year anniversary was coming up in October . . . October 31st, to be exact . . . he remembered it like it was yesterday . . .  
  
"Where's Vicki?" Harry said, standing on his tip-toes so he could see through the crowd. Absentmindedly, Ron, who was busy ogling the girl next to him, said, "Harry, why don't you just admit that you like her as more than a friend?" "Because she IS only my friend, Ron," he said exasperatedly. But Harry knew, deep down inside, that Vicki was more than just a friend to him. He'd liked her ever since she first came to the school in September. They instantly became friends and soon after that best friends. He felt so comfortable with her. Even if their personalities were complete opposites, they were still best friends. He finally spotted her golden brown hair in the mass of people. "Vicki!" he yelled through the crowd. She must've recognized his voice, since she yelled, "That's HARRY!" without even having to turn around. She whipped around her beautiful thick hair, fanning out behind her. She finally caught sight of him and began plowing through her fellow classmates, as to clear a more direct path towards Harry. When she finally reached him, she gave him a big hug. "God, she feels good . . ." Harry thought to himself. He wanted to hold her forever. When they pulled apart, she turned to Ron, and cheerfully said, "Hi!" In a monotone, "Hi," was his measly reply. "Want to go eat? I'm so glad it's the Halloween feast . . . you know how I love to eat . . ." she said, while playfully tugging on the front of his shirt. Harry put his arms on her waist and said, "Sure." Without even saying good-bye to Ron, Harry ran off with Vicki. "Well, bye then!" Ron called after him sarcastically. He plopped down next to Vicki, and, as the feast had already begun, started helping himself to a platter of chicken. As Harry and Vicki chatted contentedly, he didn't even notice Draco Malfoy, Harry's archenemy approaching from the Slytherin table with his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Draco finally reached Harry and grabbed his ears from behind. He coolly sat next to Harry, putting his arm around him and said, "I always wondered why you were never mourning on this sad day . . ." "What are you on about, Malfoy?" Harry said. "You're telling me you don't even remember?" Vicki seemed to have perked up, but in a harsh manner and said, "Malfoy, get lost!" "No, Vicki, I want to find out what he means," he said, while turning to Malfoy again. "As I was saying," he said, glaring at Vicki, "if my parents had died on this day, I would have at least had some kind of ceremony." This remark hit Harry hard. He was right. He had never mourned very much on this day. It wasn't that he had forgotten, but he tried to put that out of his mind. It was too upsetting to think about. But, nonetheless, Harry felt his face reddening and his eyes watering. "Aw . . . poor Harry . . . are you going to cry?" Draco said nastily. Harry, trying to hold back the tears that were fighting to get out, ran as fast as he could out of the Great Hall. He ran out into the entranceway, turned, and continued running. He fell, skinned his knees, and crawled up in a dark corner in the dungeons. He finally let the howl of hurt escape from him. He cried and cried until he heard footsteps, which was he stopped abruptly. "Harry?" It was Vicki. He couldn't let her see him like this. He tried wiping his tears on his sleeves, but it was no use, he couldn't control his sharp breaths and heaving shoulders. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried like this. But soon enough, Vicki rounded the corner and saw his sad, pitiful self crying in a dark, dingy corner. She walked towards him and sat down. She timidly put her arms around him and fully embraced him. It was now that Harry let it all out. All Vicki was saying was, "Don't be embarrassed . . . it's okay to cry . . ." After he had composed of himself, she stood him up and looked him straight in the eye, took a deep breath and said, "Harry, I know this isn't the best time to ask you this, but I promised myself I'd ask you tonight, therefore I'm going to go through with it." She took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, "Will you be my boyfriend?" Those were the five words he'd been waiting to hear all year. Almost automatically, his response was, "Yes! Of course!" Her face broke into a smile and said, "Well . . . okay then." She hesitantly took his hand and started walking back towards the Great Hall, with Harry by her side. As they enttered, Harry didn't care if his eyes were blotchy and red. He had a girlfriend now and that was all that mattered . . .  
  
Yes . . . that was how Vicki Patterson had come into his life. The only thing he was afraid of was, since he hadn't talked to her all summer, would things be . . . "weird"? Would things be different between them? Would she have met another guy? But, it was Vicki, who was extremely loyal. If there was another guy in her life, she would've written right away. During the summer, Vicki was back home in America. She lived in Pennsylvania. Harry had always longed to go to America, but had never gotten the opportunity. He'd heard that it truly was an amazing country . . . perhaps he'd be able to go there someday, preferably with Vicki. It was now that Harry was knocked out of his plethora of thoughts. An owl came hurtling through the window, landing right on Harry's bed, with a soft "thumpf." It stood upright and looked at Harry sternly, almost signaling for him to take the scrolled piece of parchment form his scrawny little leg. Harry moved forward and followed the owl's gesticulations until it looked satisfied. It ruffled its feathers irritably, and it was now that Harry realized it had a nametag on it. He moved closer, to look at it, and it said: "PROPERTY OF THE DEATHS & NOTICES OFFICE AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC." This frightened Harry very much. He was anxious to find out who died. He frantically scrambled around to find a letter opener, and once he found it, he threw the letter on his desk and sliced it open. It read . . . "Dear Mr. Potter: We are sorry to inform you that a Mr. -" "THAT BOY!" Harry whipped around, scared, and in the process of this, dropped the letter. To his distress, the letter conveniently dropped down into this vent. He dropped to the floor, trying to squeeze his hand through the vent bars, but it was no use. That letter was gone forever. Harry could not ignore the thumping footsteps that were now nearing his room. Before he knew it, and, like always, the usual two bangs resounded around his room, coming from the door that was just about to be knocked down by his large and beefy uncle. "BOY! COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "Coming, Uncle Vernon," Harry said monotonously. He trudged towards the door and slowly unlocked it, dreading what was on the other side. He opened the door all the way and there stood Uncle Vernon, holding Dudley by the scruff of the neck, his face purpling a deeper shade of magenta with every minute passing by. "What?" Harry asked, totally clueless. "You did it, boy. You did!" "Did what?" Uncle Vernon ushered Dudley forward. His piggy little eyes were brimming with tears as his pink chin trembled. To Harry's amusement, when Dudley opened his mouth, nothing came out. But what did come out were five tiny bubbles. Harry's initial reaction was to double up with laughter, but after 16 years with the Dursleys, he knew better. Harry continued to stare at Dudley, and finally looked up at Uncle Vernon, saying, "I didn't do it." "What're you on about? Of course you did. Come now, boy! Put him right!" "I'm telling you, I didn't do it. Perhaps he swallowed a bar of soap." Uncle Vernon eyed him with pure contempt, but grabbed Dudley again and walked away. Harry slammed his door behind them. He knew Dudley didn't swallow a bar of soap. Not even he was stupid enough to do that. Yes . . . it had to have been a wizard, and Harry knew he hadn't done it . . . but what did this mean? Was there another wizard nearby? After he finished with his thoughtful inquiries, he sat back down at his desk. He saw the rope that had scrolled the letter from the Ministry of Magic. It was now that he was reminded of the parchment that had come for him. Who had died? He knew it was a 'Mister' . . . but who could it be? He now began to worry about Ron, Dumbledore, and Sirius. It had to have been someone close to him . . . or else they wouldn't have personally notified him . . . he didn't want to have to wait another five weeks until he found out at Hogwarts. He decided he'd write the Weasleys and ask them what was going on. Perhaps they'd know . . . or so he hoped. As he was tired of sitting in his room, and guessing he'd finish his Transfiguration essay later, Harry got up and opened the door. As he walked down the hallway, he realized how much that pale blue wallpaper bothered him. It had little flowers on it. Harry felt a strange urge to rip it down. He shook off the strange feeling and turned left to go down the steps. All of a sudden, he heard loud voices coming from inside the living room. As Harry neared it, they became clearer and more distinct. "What're you doing in my house!" he heard Uncle Vernon shout. "I'm here for Harry, that's it . . ." said a husky voice that Harry recognized. "I do not and will not stand for this nonsense! Get out of my house!" his uncle roared. Harry inched near the door, grabbed the handle, and was about to open it when the next few words struck him like a bolt of lightning. "Mr. Dursley, I've come because Harry's godfather was murdered last night." The voice was of Albus Dumbledore, the ancient headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, whom Harry had grown to trust greatly over the years. It was now that Harry flung the door open. Looking at Dumbledore with a tear-stricken face, he said one word, "How?" "If you'd allow me to take you into a more private room, I'd gladly, yet sadly, explain the situation and circumstances to you." Harry led the way out of the living room and into the computer room. "It happened the night before last. He was lying in bed and the Ministry is guessing he committed suicide . . . no one knows or will ever know what drove him to it . . . he was clear of all charges; had a loving godson; a 2nd chance at life . . . and he blew it. As traumatizing as this event must be for you, in time, you will understand and accept. Sirius is in a better place now . . . where he can look over you all the time . . . I'm truly sorry, Harry. This is just as much of a loss for me as it is for you, so I know what you're going through. He was one of my dearest friends. And I wish I could sit and mourn and talk with you, but I must set forth in my other tasks. Good-bye Harry. I'll see you when you return to school." Dumbledore turned swiftly on his heel and walked out of the computer room. Before Harry knew it, Dumbledore was gone. That must've been who the letter was about then, Harry said to himself. He couldn't believe he was gone. Sirius had always given him an extra sense of security. He now felt so vulnerable and . . . small. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort got him now. But Harry tried shaking those thoughts out of his head. He had to deal with the Dursley's inquisitive interrogations when he left the room. Maybe he'd get his broom and fly away . . . away from all these people, into another world. It was then that he was reminded of all the people he cared about . . . Ron, Hermione, Vicki . . . he just couldn't do that to them. During all these thought processes, Harry had finally awoken from his summer daze. He was standing face to face with a purple-faced Uncle Veron. Before he could go on his blazing row, Harry turned and scampered out of the room as quickly as he could and down the hall. He opened the unlocked cupboard door, pulled out his invisibility cloak and broom and ran for the door, with a bumbling, furious Uncle Vernon tailing closely behind him. Harry flung open the door, was on his broomstick, and soaring into the sky before Uncle Vernon even reached the doorway. He wrapped his invisibility cloak tightly around hi and continued to fly into the sky. It felt so indescribably good to be back on his Firebolt, back where he belonged. He had nowhere to go, and that feeling was only further exerting the thrill of this broom ride. Perhaps he'd go to Hogwarts . . . if he only knew where that was. Or perhaps the Weasleys? Yes . . . that's where he would go. His second home . . . one of the scarce places where he actually felt wanted and loved. Mrs. Weasley, the only "true" mother figure he'd had in his life, was always happy to have him stay. He was just hoping they weren't too busy . . . Around midday, he saw a sign for "Ottery St. Catchpole" which is where the Weasleys lived in their ancient seven story house. Harry was really looking forward to seeing his favorite wizarding family again. He had always loved the chaos of the Weasley house. The talk, the screams, the laughter, and just the all around energy. It was an amazing place to be. He didn't think Ron knew how lucky he really was. He sighted it and continued flying. Finally, the Burrow came into view. At a towering height of about 100 feet above the ground, he began his plunge towards the ground. He imagined he was in the Quidditch World Cup, performing an incredible dive for the pale but excited spectators all around. He could almost see the Snitch. He was about to pull out of the dive, when he heard a person screech, "HARRY!" Harry looked up above ten feet above the ground, to his confused but pleasured puzzlement, and saw Vicki Patterson standing about fifty yards away. Before Harry knew it though, he was eating pavement, and his right arm was crumpled beneath him. He let out a pained outcry as he looked up. Vicki had reached him and dropped to her knees. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Are you all right?" The sincerity of her sweet, oily voice pushed Harry's troubles away. He smiled at her and said, "What're you doing here?" For a fleeting second, Harry could've sworn he saw panic overcome her eyes. He felt her hands tense up on his shoulders. But you never know, he probably imagined it. "Nevermind that, let's get you back to the Burrow!" This was all very confusing. It's not like Vicki was very good friends with Ron. Maybe she was here for him. Perhaps they'd established a direct ESP! However very doubtful that was, it was still nice to think about. She held him all the way back to the Burrow. They went into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was sitting with Hermione. "Oh, Harry! What happened?" Mrs. Weasley asked concernedly. Embarrassed at his own stupid mistake, he remained silent. Hermione got up, put her arm around Harry and sat him down at the table, resulting in a very dirty look Vicki directed towards Hermione. As Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen, looking for a book on mending bones, Ron came in, "What's all the commotion for?" "HARRY! WHAT'S UP?" Harry stood up and gave Ron a quick, masculine hug. Ron turned to Vicki. "Vicki Patterson, what're you doing in my house? Is she with you, Harry? Because if so, I don't' really want her here . . ." "Wait, do you mean YOU didn't even know she was here?" "Yeah, Vicki, why ARE you here?" Hermione asked. With a nasty sneer towards Hermione, Vicki said, "Your mother invited me to come and stay . . ." Mrs. Weasley had left and come back in. "Mum, did you invite Vicki-" "So, Harry, how has your summer been?" Vicki said, speaking louder than Ron. It seemed as if she had interrupted Ron intentionally. When Harry and Vicki weren't looking, Ron and Hermione gave each other suspicious looks. Neither of them were sure about this Vicki Patterson. Both Ron and Hermione tried to shrug off their negative suspicions and attempted to have as enjoyable of a summer as possible, but only to realize they were unsuccessful. It seemed as if Vicki had a medival power over Harry. That's all he seemed to think about. He didn't even have time for his best friends anymore. All of his spare time was either spent with Vicki or isolated in his room thinking of Vicki. It seemed as if he was concerned with Vicki so much, he ddin't even notice that four Weasleys who were normally there during the summer weren't. The air was human, the kind that made your clothes cling to your body. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, as he was so preoccupied with Vicki. Hermione finally spoke up. "Vicki, would you please excuse me with Harry? I've got to have a little talk with him." With a harsh glare, Vicki nodded indignantly. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, and pulled him out of the kitchen. Only to add to her annoyance, Harry never took his eyes off of Vicki. Hermione sat him on the couch. She looked him hard in the eye, and all that responded was Harry's dumb gaze. So she slapped him. The reaction this time was much more harsh. Harry seemed to have awoken from his stupor and stood up angrily, holding the side of his face in pain, yelling, "What did you do that for!" She pushed him roughly back on the couch and began pacing angrily back and forth, to gather her thoughts before she completely let loose. "You deserved it, Harry Potter! You should see the way you act around Vicki. It's sad, nearly pathetic. You're acting as if you were in love with her, which you aren't! I see the way she looks at me when I talk to you, or even look at you. It's almost like she considers you a prize to be won, like a teddy bear in a carnival game. I'm telling you, she shows no affection towards you. You're only going to end up hurt!" Harry stood up again, getting ready to shout something, but Hermione pushed Harry back down furiously. "Now it's on a rare occasion that you make me angry, but now I am, and I'm furious. You don't even have time for your friends anymore. If you think I'm mad, you should see Ron. You've barely said more than a sentence to me all summer, and I don't think you've said one word to Ron. I'd say your taking us for granted, and I hope you know that I'm, along with Ron, not always going to be here, like when Vicki breaks your heart. I'm tired of it and I don't need it. And now it's time for you to make a decision. It's either your friends or your girlfriend. Now, both you and I know what decision you should make, but lately you'r heart's been speaking for your brain, so we'll see what happens." Harry stood up, with a red, angered face, shouted, "MY GIRLFRIEND! I CHOOSE VICKI! I thought friends were supposed to always be there for each other. I thought FRIENDS would be happy for each other. I just got lonely and sick of you and Ron. You and Ron always had each other. I wanted that kind of relationship. And iyou're implying that Vicki is using me, you're wrong, because I love her! And she loves me back! I think you're just jealous! Well, I guess this is good-bye, Hermione. It's been great, it really has!" And with that, he stormed up the steps. Harry was outraged that Hermione had spoken to him like that. She was never very outspoken and usually held her tongue fairly well. Now, normally, if a situation like this had occurred at the Dursleys, he would march to the cupboard under the stairs, grab his spell books, wand, and Firebolt, and fly out the door, just as he had that hot and humind morning back in July, but as he had nowhere else to go, he stayed put with the Weasley until school started. As awkward as it was with Ron and Hermione, he still had Mrs. Weasley and Vicki to talk to. They still treated him like a human being, at least. One night at dinner, Harry looked up, and said, "Mrs. Weasley, where're Percy, Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley?" Ignoring the glares of Ron and Hermione, Harry looked politely around, slightly confused. But all had gone quiet in the Weasley house. Not a creature stirred. The Weasleys, Hermione, and Vicki bwoed their heads, and Mrs. Weasley's cries of anguish broke the awkward silence. Hermione gave Harry a dirty look. It was al ook that seemed to pierce right deep into his soul. He suddenly realized how much he missed her. He missed Ron, too, but just couldn't bring himself to admitting it out loud. He looked over at Ron, expecting a diryt look in return, but al lRon seemed to be doing was silently starting at his dinner plate. Vicki spoke up angrily, "Hermione, don't look at him like that. He didn't know." "Well, maybe if he wasn't so preoccupied with American trash like you, he would've noticed!" Ron slammed both hands on the table and said, "Would you both shut- up? I'm tired of fighting. Hermione, it also wasn't Harry's fault." Ron looked up from his dinner plate and, for a fleeting second, Harry thought he saw Ron wink, but then he looked toward Vicki, who had no reaction to the supposed "wink." "I think it's best if I just go to bed," Harry said. As he got up and left the kitchen, he felt three sets of eyes burning into him. Harry could not wait until school started again. Then maybe he, Ron, and Hermione could bury the hatchet, and possibly Hermione and Vicki could become friends. All Harry wanted was the best of both worlds, his girlfriend and his best friends. But as he had learned in the past many times, you rarely got what you wanted. As Harry looked at his "Countdown to Hogwarts" calendar, he realized, that somewhere in all this mess, Harry had turned 17. But, it was very odd he hadn't received birthday greetings from any of his fellow wizards. He certainly knew he wasn't getting anything from Ron or Hermione, and Hagrid, well . . . that had happened two years ago and he'd recovered since then. It just wasn't like the Weasleys to ignore his birthday. And it was then that he realized he hadn't seen Fred or George all summer, as well as Ginny. He wondered where they all were. He supposed they were traveling somewhere in Britain. A knock came at his door. He went to open it and the sight he met was so unexpected it made him jump backwards in surprise. There stood Ron Weasley, shirt half on his shoulder, red hair a mess, and a tear-stricken face. He looked so sad. "Ron . . ." was all Harry managed to say in a sympathetic tone. Ron walked a step closer to Harry and collapsed into his arms. He erupted into horrible cries . . . he wailed, he yelled . . . all Harry did was stand there and hugged him. "Harry . . . I'm so sorry . . . so sorry . . . didn't want . . . jealous . . . Hermione . . . Vicki . . ." was what Harry deciphered out of Ron's somewhat comprehensible jumbled sentences. "It's okay, Ron . . . would you like to sit?" Ron stepped away and nodded. It was lik they were just meeting for the first time. That awkward connection between them, still trying to linger, trying to hold on, but couldn't hold on as it unmistakably slipped into the icy-hot depths of Harry and Ron's hearts. After Ron had composed of himself, and was capable of making full- length sentences, he said, sniffling, "I thought you deserved to know the truth about Percy, Charlie, Bill, and Dad. Thought you should know the turht about me . . . how I was feeling." 


	2. SECOND CHAPTER!

"It happened in early July. I didn't write you because I didn't want to put pressure on you what with You-Know-Who, so don't think I was mad at you . . . On July 6th, The Quidditch Cup was being held in Bulgaria . . . Britain had actually made it to the finals, and were playing against Luxembourg. Of course, we were all ecstatic about our home country make it to the Cup, so Dad ventured for tickets. Sadly, old Thelonius Turner from the Department of Unspeakables, could only get his hands on four tickets. Naturally, Dad and the three eldest boys got to go . . . Percy, Bill, and Charlie . . . but compared to what happened that night, I wish it was me that had gone . . . You-Know-Who showed up at the match with what must have been at least 500 followers, all shrouded with black cloaks. Right in the middle of the field, Harry . . ." Ron let out an anguished cry, "they performed the Avada Kedavra curse on every single person in that arena . . . walked right up to them and killed them . . . huge masses of wizards died, Dad, Bill, Charlie, and Percy among them. The community was outraged at this . . . no one felt safe any longer. Everyone thought the Ministry was doing a sufficient job in holding You- Know-Who and his followers, but after that happened, all hope vanished. So when you came along, some hope was returned. I was reminded that we still had you . . . I still had myself . . . seeing you helped me move on from what had happened in July . . . it helped me become stronger. But when I found out you almost had developed a near obsession with your girlfriend, I was hurt again. All the pain came back from the night I found out they died . . . I was angry . . . I didn't know what to do with myself. I was so scared I was losing my best friend. Sure, Hermione's been great in helping me sort out my feelings, but she's my girlfriend now . . . I didn't have a contact where I could tell them my feelings without feeling a different connection with. That feeling was horrible." Ron looked outside the window, the moonlight shining through his young, orange hair. Tears were still rapidly streaming down his face. Harry tried to think of something to say, and he guessed it was noticeable as Ron said, "You don't have to say anything. I should've been happier for you about Vicki. If I had considered your feelings this whole mess wouldn't have occurred. I should've recognized you were hurt before I put myself, like I always do, first . . . I'm really sorry, Harry." Harry smiled in reassurance. They retired to looking out the window at the little gnomes toddling around in the garden. It was then that a question came to mind. "Ron . . ." "Yeah, Harry?" "Where're Fred, George, and Ginny?" "Oh . . . they're at their joke shop in Hogsmeade . . . they're actually due home sometime tonight." "Oh . . ." Harry sighed in relief and resumed looking out the window. After awhile, Ron finally said, "I think it's time I get back to my room and get some sleep." Harry nodded for the second time and watched Ron as he went out the door. After Ron had left, he got up off the bed and closed the door behind him. It was now that the full impact of the four men's deaths hit him. Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Mr. Weasley were dead. The finality was just too overwhelming. He tried to stop thinking about it. He walked over to his bed and climbed in. He was on the verge of falling asleep when he heard voices outside. It was Mrs. Weasley, she must have been greeting Fred, George, and Ginny. "Hey Mum, how are you?" "I'm fine, Fred, thank you, I've missed you so much boys." "We've missed you too, Mum." "Oh, and my beautiful Virginia, gorgeous as an angel. How I've longed to have a female in the house . . . well, I've had Hermione and Harry's girlfriend here, but they're just not the same as my daughter. Oh, how I've wanted to see your face for two years, Ginny . . ." Yes, it was true, Harry had forgotten . . . Ginny had been away at a Muggle boarding school for two years. She had been sent there after she was caught snogging with a boy one day in a clearing outside the Burrow. "Mum . . . is Harry here?" "Yes." "Excellent . . ." And that was all Harry knew as he slipped into a deep sleep. The next morning, it sounded as if all five of the Weasleys, and Hermione and Vicki were up, bustling around downstairs. Harry got up, dressed, washed up, and continued down the stairs toward the kitchen. There were the rest of the seven people living in the house sitting around the kitchen table, holding hands, with their eyes closed. It seemed they were saying a prayer, and as Harry didn't want to interrupt, he silently took the vacant seat next to Vicki. When they had all commenced their prayer, Harry leaned over to give Vicki a kiss. Now he noticed that all seven people weren't there. It appeared that Ginny was missing. "Where's Ginny?" Harry asked. "Who's Ginny?" Vicki asked politely. "She's the Weasley's youngest . . . only girl in the family . . ." "Ah," Vicki said, smiling. "There she is now," Fred said. Harry had completely forgotten the arrival of Fred and George. "My God," Harry said as he stood up. "Hey, Harry fellow," Fred said, standing up, hugging Harry. George followed suit. It seemed as if it was take a rather long time for Ginny to get down the steps as her footsteps were still loudly resounding around the kitchen. Her feet finally hit the landing. She walked slowly towards the kitchen, and she appeared. Harry, face dug into his breakfast plate, looked up, and his mouth dropped. Apparently so had Vicki's. Ginny was nothing like Harry had remembered her. She used to be a mousy, red-haired, flat-chested little girl who dreamed of Harry in her sleep. Now she was a fully-grown, well-endowed . . . woman, who probably thought of Harry as nothing more than a little boy. She continued walking to her seat, rocking her hips as she sat down and gracefully put her napkin on her lap. Vicki grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him out of the kitchen, well out of earshot. "When you said 'youngest', I didn't know you meant some big-breasted beautiful girl, Harry!" "I know . . ." Harry seemed to have slipped into a momentary stupor. Vicki slapped him. "Listen, I didn't know she'd be that attractive, but Ginny has no personality. Trust me, I'd never be interested in her. All she wants in me is my fame. You want my love and affection." Harry cupped her face in his hands and bent down to kiss her. 


	3. THIRD CHAPTER!

"That's right," Vicki smiled. "Come on, let's go back," Harry said, smiling assuredly. Vicki nodded and led the way back to the kitchen, holding Harry's hand. As they entered, Ginny eyed Vicki testily. She got up and went over to Harry, as he had already seated himself, swinging her voluptuous body with all she had. She finally reached him, she reached over Harry, revealing quite a lot of cleavage. Harry looked up at Ginny and immediately saw the exposed crest of her breasts and turned away quickly. As tempting as the feast behind him was, it was Ron's little sister and his girlfriend was sitting right next to him. Harry was glad Ginny was returning to boarding school next week, then his attention would be back on Vicki and he could ignore the amounting physical attraction towards Ginny. No girl he'd ever seen had such an hourglass figure as Ginny . . . Vicki didn't have curvy hips and those large, milky br --- . . . His thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. Weasley asked, "So, my darling Ginny, are you looking forward to attending Hogwarts?" Panic overcame Harry . . . who knew what Ginny might try to pull? She smiled seductively at Harry and said, "Absolutely thrilled . . ." Harry was nothing short of positively aroused. The way those words rolled off her tongue was so seducing and desirable. Harry wanted her . . . and badly. Harry seemed to have come to his sense though as he realized that Ginny was nothing like Vicki. He had such a special friendship and bond with her that he'd never developed with Ginny. He just loved her in a sisterly way, and maybe not even that . . . "Anything wrong, Harry?" Vicki asked tersely. Harry looked back at her, smiled, and said, "No, nothing at all." They went through the meal without a single thought of Ginny, until they heard a tapping at the window. It was an owl he didn't recognize. It looked somewhat similar to the one that had . . . It'd been days since Harry had thought even ONCE about Sirius. He had surely missed the cremation or burial by now. "I wonder who it could be for?" Ron asked quietly across the table towards Harry. Hermione raised her eyebrows, as if asking, "You two are talking again?" "I think I know exactly who it's for . . ." And he was right. The owl flew straight towards Harry and landed on his arm. "I really don't need another person that died, right now," Harry thought quietly to himself. The owl quickly dropped the letter on his lap and flew swiftly out the window again. They all watched it silently until it was nothing but a mere speck in the distance. "Well, go on, open it Harry," said Ron quietly, "who knows, it could be from Sirius." As he had not listened to the news in several days, Harry guessed they hadn't released the news of his death, yet. But, all the same, he picked up the letter and began to unstuck thee seal. He finally got the letter open and unfolded it hesitantly. It read:  
  
Dear Mr. Potter: The funeral of a Mr. Sirius Alan Black will be held at George's Funeral Home in his hometown in Durham, England. Someone will be along to take you and any other persons you wish to bring along on the 28th of August. Sincerely, Nancy Kirkland Office of Deaths and Notices MoM  
  
As sadness overcame him, he was still relieved his other friends or anyone he cared about weren't hurt . . . "What's up, Harry?" Ron asked curiously. Harry shook his head. He couldn't bring himself to say it. That would mean he'd actually have to come to terms with the fact that the one father figure he'd had in his life was truthfully . . . dead. He didn't want to have to face that kind of hurt. He quietly stood up, crumpled the letter in his hand and walked out of the room. He continued up the several staircases and straight into his room. He sat down at his bureau and looked into the mirror. The face staring back at him was extremely pale, with dark circles around his eyes. He was beyond tears at this point. Harry didn't know if he could go to this funeral. He didn't want to face it alone. Thinking of Sirius in that casket was too much to bear . . . seeing his scars were he hurt himself . . . the lacerations from the noose . . . the pain was too strong to carry on by himself, but he decided that he must continue on in this journey and life. And if that meant facing the funeral alone, then so be it. Harry walked over to his bed and collapsed onto it, falling quickly into a drunken sleep, longing to forget this day forever. Harry woke to a bright and sunny day, light pouring through the window. He shielded his yes and got out of bed. Harry jumped backwards in panic. His desk calendar read, "August 28th." Today was the funeral! He directed his attention to his clock, which read, "7:39." Durham was quite a bit of ways from Ottery St. Catchpole, and if they were driving, would take a good three hours. He figured he'd better get a move on. He got a shower, and not sure what to wear, threw on a pair of black trousers, a black sweater, and a plain black Hogwarts cloak. By now it was around 8:45, and sure enough, just as he was fastening his cloak, there came a ring at the doorbell. Someone had apparently answered it, and hoping it was not Mrs. Weasley, flew down the stairs at a lightning speed. To his misfortune, it was Mrs. Weasley who had opened the door. She had heard Harry's feet hit the landing and turned around, looking at Harry sternly. "Harry, do you know this man? He says he's looking for you." "No time to explain, Mrs. Weasley, but I'll be back around seven tonight." And with that, he ran out the door and into the car, before Mrs. Weasley had the chance to throw any questions at him. The man that had summoned him at the door was now climbing into the car. He was also dressed in all black. He had reddish hair and a toothbrush mustache. He looked very nice indeed. When he was fully in the car (he was very tall), he turned to Harry, held out his hand, and said, "Mundungus Fletcher . . . glad to be at your acquaintance, Mr. Potter . . . Sirius was a very dear friend of mine." As he blabbered on about his relationship with Sirius, Harry couldn't help but stare at a rather large yellow gem, on a black necklace hanging around hi neck. He wondered where he'd gotten such an elegant piece of jewelry. Mr. Fletcher seemed to have noticed he wasn't listening and staring at his necklace. He shifted rather uncomfortably and tucked the gem inside his sweater. The rest of the ride was ridden in silence, which can grow very dull when you're sitting in a car with a man you barely know for three hours. 


	4. FOURTH CHAPTER!

When they approached the funeral home driveway, Harry felt a sudden lurch of dread in his stomach. He didn't think he could face Sirius' dead, cold body in that dark, chestnut coffin. He didn't think he could watch him being lowered six feet below . . . he was terrified. "You know . . . many people will be there that will want to talk to you and condole with you. I suggest you be courteous and polite as many famous witches and wizards are in that home right now," Mundungus said. Harry didn't appreciate being ordered around by this man that he had met barely four hours ago. But, being polite, he just nodded in return, acknowledging his statement. It felt extremely good to get out of the hot and stuffy car and into the breezy August afternoon. It felt quite nice, but there was a distinct chill in the air . . . or maybe it was just his dread speaking for him. They finally entered the funeral home and Harry couldn't believe how packed it was. There must have been at least 400 wizards and witches there. Harry wasn't sure if the 400 were there because they were glad to see him go . . . and he didn't really want to find out. Harry heard a voice behind him and turned around. It was Dumbledore. He had been talking to a young witch of around Harry's age whom was very nice-looking indeed. She smiled at Harry and Dumbledore before leaving. "How are you, Harry? I want to apologize for not staying with you that day at your relative's house. But I hope you can understand that the outside world's demands are very high as of right now and I had other business that I was obligated to tend to," Dumbledore said. "Yes, of course Professor, of course I understand . . . I've been making it through all right. It hadn't really hit me until I was just riding in the car with Mr. Fletcher. Dumbledore . . . where is he? I would like to see him." "He's in the room right through there . . ." Dumbledore pointed with a steady finger through the masses of people crowded around the room. Harry nodded at Dumbledore and trudged his way through the sea of witches and wizards. He finally caught a glimpse of what looked like bunches of flowers and candles. He looked downwards, not wanting to see him, yet feeling it his duty to do so. Sirius deserved at least that much respect. As he came to an opening, he saw it. He neared it, dreading what lay before him. And there was Sirius Alan Black, godfather to Harry, best friend of his parent's, ex-convicted murderer, lying in a casket, pale as a ghost. He lay motionless with hands at both sides, looking dashing in his navy blue suit, which lay upon him carelessly. It was very hard to see his usually lively godfather in this state. He'd never imagined him to be dead. Harry put a hand into the casket and touched him. Harry drew back quickly . . . he was cold as ice. He wrapped his hand around Sirius' and sat there for quite a long time. It wasn't until someone came up and tapped him on the shoulder that he was aware that the actual funeral was starting. "Sirius Alan Black," the priest started, "though a wrong impression came across to many of us when convicted of a false felony, was truly an inspirational and great man. He touched many of our lives in some way or another and managed to create a spot in his heart for each and everyone of us. He caused many to laugh during his years at school and was a very admirable person indeed, even in childhood . . ." As the priest went on, Harry zoned out. He wanted to be anywhere else but there right then. He looked straight ahead and blocked out the priest's words. Seeing Sirius in that setting was just too . . . disturbing. After all, he'd never been through a fu -- . . . Harry's thoughts were interrupted when another marched its way right in. He had been through a funeral. Dumbledore once told him that some of his parent's ashes had been collected after Voldemort attacked them in Godric's Hollow, the night that they died. Harry had asked where they were, as he thought that he deserved to have them, but Dumbledore hadn't revealed the answer, for "security reasons." Harry hadn't thought of his parent's funeral in a very long time. He'd never considered the fact that they must've had some kind of service for them. What would be his reaction today if another kind of memorial service was held? As this event was causing many dark and depressing thoughts, Harry thought it time for a break. It was then that he realized it appeared that Harry was the 'guest of honor' in a way. It seemed as if he was the only 'family' Sirius had ever had, and he was sitting in front of the funeral party, in a separate chair from everyone else. Harry hadn't even noticed the people that kept coming up to him and saying, "I'm sorry, dear . . ." The funeral continued and Harry remained in his state of fogginess. And before he knew it, it was time for the last good-bye before they locked the casket. Harry was the first in line and walked towards the coffin. There was Sirius again, cold as ice, lying there like a lifeless vegetable. Harry had tried so hard to prevent the tears that had been building up inside him, but the longer he looked at the dead Sirius, the more the gale of hurt wanted to escape. He couldn't control it anymore and let out a desperate cry of anguish. He collapsed onto the person next to him and cried, and cried, and cried . . . The next few hours were just a blur. It seemed as if he was delirious as he had no idea where he was or whom he was sitting next to. He heard voices around him that he did not recognize . . . he saw flashing lights. "Stop moving me around," Harry tried to mumble. A voice spoke as if speaking into a tape recorder, "His words are incomprehensible and he seems to be deliriously confused . . . his limbs are limp and his speech is jumbled . . . what do you suggest? Okay . . . just grief? Just sleep? Pills? Okay, I'll have Tom go and get them . . ." And that was all he remembered.  
  
Harry must've woken, as sunlight was suddenly pouring into his eyes. But then the light was shaded and he could finally open his eyes. "Are you okay?" The voice was music to his ears . . . so angelic it sounded as if it should've been in the heavens, and not here on earth. The oily tones of this female's voice made him at ease at once. "Yes," Harry replied, closing his eyes again so he could correct his vision. Soon, he opened them again and was looking into the eyes of the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. "My name is Annabelle . . . I believe you're a Mr. Harry Potter?" "Yeah . . ." This girl didn't seem to be British either, she surely had an American accent. "You've been sleeping for two days straight . . . I've been watching over you . . . we never knew when you'd wake." "Who is we?" Harry wondered briefly for a minute, then realized that it had come out in the form of a question. "We, as in the British Society for American Orphanized Children, or BSAOC for short," this girl named Annabelle said. "Oh, I see . . ." Harry felt the urge to launch into his story of orphanism, in order to relate with her, but figured she already knew and decided he shouldn't waste his already feeble energy. 


	5. FIFTH CHAPTER!

"I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Potter, but . . . I really haven't any clue who you are."  
  
Harry's mouth dropped over. It must've been portrayed as a conceited facial expression, as Annabelle looked back at him crudely.  
  
"I'm supposing you think yourself well-known?" She said crossly.  
  
"No, I -- just . . . I'm surprised that I've met someone that finally doesn't know who I am. It's actually . . . nice."  
  
"Oh," Annabelle said, her face turning neutral again.  
  
"Yeah . . ."  
  
"So, who are you?"  
  
"I -- I'm, Harry Potter," he said, laughing.  
  
"Yes," she giggled.  
  
Harry leaned in and said, "Lord Voldemort!"  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"Lord Voldemort."  
  
"What, is that your father or something?" asked, in an innocent but curious tone of voice.  
  
"No . . ." this girl was apparently a Muggle, though she was remarkably good-looking and very nice indeed. He wished to get to know her better. "So, how'd you find me in the first place?"  
  
"Well, our guardian here, Missy, was at a funeral for a man named Sirius Black, the ex-convicted murderer. She saw you faint by his coffin. No one really knows you're here."  
  
It was at that moment that panic-stricken thoughts started to come to him. Mrs. Weasley would start to worry about him desperately. Everyone would think that he was taken by Voldemort. What would he do? He had to contact the Weasleys or Dumbledore, at least. He couldn't stay with this Muggle girl, no matter how much he wanted to.  
  
"Oh . . ." was all he could manage to say, disregarding all the thoughts that had come to him just minutes before.  
  
She flashed a dazzling smile at Harry, and his heart melted. All thoughts of Vicki vanished as Annabelle said, "You just lie down here, and I'll come back for you later."  
  
As she left, Harry looked outside the window. The sun shined brightly through the half-closed curtain. It was a cloudless, blue sky and Harry wanted to go outside.  
  
So he did.  
After he got dressed, his head started to throb, but stopped thinking about the pain. He wanted to go and spend time with this new girl Annabelle. She was so interesting. He wanted to find out what she was all about.  
  
He left his designated room and started walking down the hall. He noticed that there were names carved in wood hanging on the door, which stated names. There were two names on each door and he supposed that these were the names of the residents at the BSAOC. He came across Annabelle's, and noticed that she had her own room. He couldn't help it, the temptation was too great. He found himself turning her doorknob. If she was in there, great, if she wasn't, great.  
  
He found the room empty.  
  
It was a pale pink, with flowers sporadically painted along the walls. She had a white canopied bed with a pink comforter, along with a white pillow. She had an oak bureau and vanity, which had pink flowers sketched onto the fronts of the drawers. There was a towering bookcase with what must have been a thousand books in it. He noticed a pair of double French doors, which were open, leading out onto the balcony. He walked to her oak desk and ran his fingers along it. He saw a letter on the desk and was in the midst of picking it up when he heard a blood-curdling scream behind him.  
  
He whipped around and saw a girl of about eleven with blond-pigtails with her hands over her face screaming bloomin' murder.  
  
"A BOY! A BOY IS IN ANNA'S ROOM! MISSY! A BOY! A BOY!"  
  
And with this, he heard about twenty doors opening and shutting resounding around the house. About a hundred footsteps shuffled towards Annabelle's room, a middle-aged woman among them.  
  
"Girls, girls, girls . . . this boy is no intruder. We picked him up at the funeral, because he fainted. No need to overreact."  
  
Many girls were questioning his credibility, while one girl, of about six, perked up and asked, "Missy, what's his name?"  
  
"Harry Potter."  
  
The girl looked at him coldly, squeaked, and ran off into her room. It left the remainder of the girls extremely confused, but just disregarded the girl's odd reaction and went back to staring at Harry, with increasing curiousity.  
  
The woman named Missy moved towards Harry and put her hand on his back, "I think you'll find it rather comfortable here. You're going to be staying here for a couple weeks until you fully recover from the grief you must be feeling. This is Annabelle, I believe you've already met. She's seventeen, I'm suspecting around your age, and she mostly helps me take care of the other girls here. The other children are aged from six to thirteen. I hope you'll have a good vacation here . . ."  
  
"But, Ms. Missy--" the other girls laughed at the remark, "I should really contact the . . . er --- relatives I was staying with. Don't you think they'll be worried?"  
  
"No need, Mr. Potter, no need . . . you'll be fine."  
  
She walked towards the group of girls and said, "Now, shoo, I'm sure this older boy," the girls giggled, and Missy smiled, "won't want to be bothered by a bunch of girls . . ." She turned to Annabelle and said, "Would you mind showing him around the area and the house?"  
  
"Of course not . . ."  
  
Missy walked out the door and down the halls, echoes of, "He was cute, I want to be seventeen!" reverberating against the large, circular ceiling.  
  
Annabelle turned to Harry, while his heart started beating faster, and said, "I'll show you around the house and then we can go out for a walk. I'm sure you're tired of lying around the house, and plus, I could use a break from all these bratty girls . . ."  
  
"Sure . . . but one question, who's that one girl that ran off at the sight of me?" Harry asked innocently.  
  
"Oh . . . she reacts oddly to everybody that comes through this house . . . we just think she's got a thing against boys . . . but anyway, her name is Liza."  
  
But Harry had a weird feeling that that wasn't the real reason . . . he actually knew that wasn't the reason . . .  
  
Liza was a witch.  
  
Annabelle looked at Harry oddly, who had a dazed look on his face. He seemed to be thinking very hard.  
  
"Harry, are you all right?"  
  
Harry snapped out of it, and looked quickly up at Annabelle, embarrassed at his temporary stupor. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks."  
  
"Well, now that you're . . . er, awake, again . . . we can get started with the tour!"  
  
She started walking towards the door and Harry followed. As they exited her room, he looked to his left, and there stood Liza. He needed to know more about this little girl.  
  
"Ah, Annabelle, could you please excuse me for a moment? I want to have a little talk with Liza and tell her to not be afraid of me, as I'm not going to hurt anyone."  
  
"Oh, good, I'll come with y-"  
  
"No, don't . . . go downstairs and tell Missy that we're going out now, I'll be down in a few moments, I shan't be long."  
  
"Well, okay," Annabelle gave him an odd look and walked down the spiral staircase.  
  
Harry stooped down to Liza's four foot level and said, "You recognize me, don't you?"  
  
She stood frozen there, looking into Harry's eyes.  
  
"There's no need to be afraid, I just . . . need to know."  
  
She slowly nodded in response. Harry pulled her into her room and said, "Liza, are you a witch?"  
  
She nodded again.  
  
"What do you know about me?"  
  
"My parents told me to stay away from you. They say you bad man."  
  
At this, he knew that her parents must be supporters of Voldemort.  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Say you defeated Voldimort and now he's dying."  
  
"Voldemort's dying?" Harry asked, alert and aware now.  
  
She nodded her head, biting her nails.  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"I can't tell you, you bad man."  
  
"LIZA!" he roared, as he grabbed Liza very harshly on both arms.  
  
At that moment, he heard a very loud voice yell, "Mr. Potter! Get your hands off of that girl right now!"  
  
Harry whipped around, dropped Liza's arms and saw Missy marching straight towards him, looking vicious. He tried to look as innocent as possible.  
  
"What were you doing to Liza?" Missy asked.  
  
"I wasn't doing anything I was just --"  
  
He looked over to the little girl and saw that she had begun to cry.  
  
"Liza, what is it?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"He--he--he was going to take me away from all you!" she wailed.  
  
"Mr. Potter," she said harshly, "I think it's about time you called your relatives, or whoever the heck they are, so they can come and pick you up!"  
  
Harry nodded to Missy as she began to walk away. Liza, who was looking behind her, stuck her tongue out at Harry, and that was the last he saw of that group of girls . . . or so he thought.  
"Why'd you go without telling me, Harry! Those girls practically kidnapped you! You knew, didn't you, that you wouldn't be able to handle his funeral alone? What made you think you could?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley was shrieking in his ear, on the verge of fainting. Harry was sitting in the Weasley kitchen, with Hermione, Ron, Vicki, Fred, George, and Ginny staring back at him.  
  
"You've had me worried sick, but, as I'm not your legal guardian, and Sirius was, I have not the right to punish you. Though, as your vacations here amounted, you've become more and more like a son to me, and I've grown to love you as if you were my own. I think that I deserve that respect as I've given you these past seven years!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with anger.  
  
He did nothing. He knew she was disappointed in him, and that was worst of all, besides, as guilty as he felt, he knew he'd never see Annabelle again.  
  
He looked at Vicki, who was suspiciously eyeing Ron. He supposed that she was still angry with him for being mad at Harry.  
  
"Harry, I don't want you to get hurt, and when you've been missing these past two days, I hadn't any idea what happened to you. I alerted the Ministry and Dumbledore and it caused an outright uproar! I just don't understand how you could've not communicated with us somehow, so we could come and get you."  
  
Even though Harry had told Missy that he ought to call the Weasleys, he knew that deep in his heart that he hadn't wanted to. He was almost glad that she said there wasn't a need to. He wanted to stay with Annabelle and learn more about her. But, now he'd lost his chance. He'd never see her again . . . never get to see her beautiful smile again.  
  
But then, he looked at Vicki, who smiled back at him, and made him feel on top of the world again. He loved Vicki so, this Annabelle fling would go away in just a few days.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley, I know I've disappointed you, and that is enough punishment for me already, without you yelling my ear off. I understand all you've said and I am very sorry. But, could I please be excused now, so I can go to bed?"  
  
It took a few minutes, but Mrs. Weasley finally nodded, flopping down on a kitchen chair, putting her hand over her heart.  
  
As Harry exited the room, Vicki stood up and said, "I'm going with him . . ."  
  
Harry thought, "Yes, this is what I need, some quality time with my girlfriend . . . perhaps she's the only that will understand."  
  
Vicki caught up with Harry and laced her fingers around his.  
  
"I was so worried about you, Harry," she whispered into his ears.  
  
Guilt started to sink in.  
  
"I love you so much."  
  
Still, he said nothing. The guilt and remorse for wanting Annabelle was amounting.  
  
"I don't ever want to leave you . . . you're my everything, Harry."  
  
He was about to explode. He'd have to tell her.  
  
"Will you marry me?"  
  
His guilt was contained. The shock of the question that lay before him was starting to envelope his brain. Has Vicki really just asked me to marry her? Yes . . . so she had. What would Harry sa--?  
  
"Yes, Vicki, I will marry you."  
  
Her eyes seemed to light up at the very words that came out of Harry's mouth. Had he really said that? At seventeen, he was engaged? Was he truthfully ready to get married?  
  
"Harry . . . this will be a wonderful life . . . we won't get married until we're out of Hogwarts, of course, but just knowing that I'm engaged already . . ."  
  
Was he ready to spend the rest of his life with this girl? A girl he hadn't even made love to before?  
  
"I love you so much, Harry."  
  
Was she really going to be the last girl and first girl he'd have intercourse with?  
  
"Do you love me, Harry?"  
  
Was she the only girl he'd ever love, truly?  
  
"Harry...?"  
  
Was she the last girl he'd experience?  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
He seemed to have awoken from his momentary stupor and said, "What was the question?"  
  
She looked hurt . . . he could see it in her eyes.  
  
"Do you love me, Harry?" she asked feebly.  
  
"Of course, I love you, Victoria. How could I not?"  
  
He smiled in reassurance and that familiar light returned to her eyes, such a lovely light that he'd admired since the first day he laid eyes upon her.  
  
They continued walking up the steps and entered Harry's room. Harry got into bed and Vicki climbed in after him.  
  
They turned to each other, so they could talk before falling asleep.  
  
"Do you think Mrs. Weasley will be mad at me for long?"  
  
"No . . . she's just worried more than anything. Plus, if she is, we go back to school tomorrow!"  
  
Harry had completely forgotten. He sat upright in his bed and said, "Oh my gosh! I have nothing packed!"  
  
"Don't worry, Harry, I took care of everything for you," she smiled.  
  
"See, that's why I love you so much . . ."  
"Come on, you all--"  
  
Mrs. Weasley's eyes had fallen upon the entwined Vicki and Harry. Had they . . . . what were they . . . in my own house?  
  
Harry woke up, due to the sunlight pouring into his eyes and looked over to his right, and was fully awake when he saw Mrs. Weasley looking, horrified, at Vicki and he. What was she thinking right now!  
  
He jumped out of bed, startling Vicki, who also saw Mrs. Weasley, and also jumped out of bed.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley, as you can see . . . we're still fully clothed. I don't want you thinking . . ."  
  
"I don't believe in premarital relations!"  
  
"Nothing happened, I would never have . . . ."  
  
Mrs. Weasley just nodded in angry skepticism and walked out of the room.  
  
"ARGH! Just what I need, something more to anger her!"  
  
Vicki put her arms around his waste, kissed his neck and said, "We don't need them . . . we don't need them at all."  
  
The four people that were going to Hogwarts that morning were all packed and ready to go at seven o'clock AM, disregarding the fact that they were all highly exhausted. Mrs. Weasley was still not speaking to Harry, or Vicki, for that matter. It seemed as if she couldn't trust them anymore, and that hurt Harry very much. After all, Mrs. Weasley was the only true mother figure he'd ever had in his life and her being disappointed in him was just as bad as if his own mother were.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was staring at Harry, and it looked as if with disgust.  
  
He felt someone's arm going around his neck and he looked to his left, seeing Vicki getting on her tip-toes so she could kiss Harry.  
  
It was a pleasant surprise for Harry, with her mint toothpaste breath, and opened his eyes, but saw that Vicki was looking over at Mrs. Weasley. Harry did so also, and saw that the look of disgust was growing more apparent, and Vicki started grabbing his bottom and kissing him deeper.  
  
Harry finally pulled away, seeing that Mrs. Weasley's face was looking so mutilated he even was disgusted, and said, under his breath, "Vicki, what are you doing?"  
  
"Just showing my affection . . . I don't like Ron's mother. She acts as if we can't be in love since we're only seventeen and reacts to us as if we shouldn't even be together. I'm just having a bit of fun."  
  
"Let's go," Mrs. Weasley barked.  
  
The four of them started filing out the door, Harry at the back of the line, but felt an arm hold him back.  
  
It was Mrs. Weasley, and Harry was now staring into her eyes, which were looking cold and gray as opposed to the nice blue twinkle that usually lingered there.  
  
"Harry, I find no fault in your relationship with Victoria, but I think you ought to take a deeper look . . ." she said as she nodded out the door.  
  
There was Vicki standing next to Ginny. She looked as if she was having nothing more than a cordial conversation with her, ignoring the look of terror on Ginny's face.  
  
Harry nodded in reply, and walked out of the door.  
  
The vehicles that were taking the lot of them to King's Cross Station must have been Ministry Cars. But, Harry was even more confused, as he thought Mr. Weasley was dead. He turned around to ask Mrs. Weasley this, but she was looking thoroughly miffed. He decided to ignore the question, as it now seemed stupid and unimportant.  
  
Of course, Vicki had to be next to Mrs. Weasley in the car and also next to Ron, the two people in the world that disliked her most.  
  
Vicki started talking, loudly, "So, Harry, where do you want to go on our honeymoon?"  
  
The water that Mrs. Weasley had been drinking sputtered out of her mouth and came flying onto Harry, a very fine mist that settled on his sweater.  
  
Why did she have to bring this up now? What was she trying to do to him? Make Mrs. Weasley hate him even more?  
  
"HONEYMOON!?" she shrieked.  
  
"I--I--we hadn't--"  
  
"HONEYMOON!!!"  
  
"Of course we discussed it Harry! Last night, after we had that long, wonderful nigh--"  
  
"VICTORIA! HAH-HAH! I haven't any idea what you're on about!" Harry smiled nervously, looking at Ron, who looked as if he'd been struck through the heart with a dagger.  
  
"Of course he does," she said, hitting Ron on the lap, "he asked me to marry him during the luxurious bath we had together, in your . . . er . . . large bathtub," she said, looking at Mrs. Weasley now.  
  
Harry knew just as well as the rest of them that their bathtub was not large at all. It merely consisted of a wooden bucket with a shower curtain surrounding it.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked daggers at Vicki, as though she was tempted to throw her out of the car.  
  
Harry looked harshly at Vicki and said, "Mrs. Weasley, I'm really sorry . . ."  
  
She looked at Harry as if nothing could apologize for Vicki's actions.  
  
The rest of the ride was ridden in silence, until they arrived at King's Cross, when Vicki and Harry conversed quietly while waiting for trolleys to take their luggage to Platform 9 and 3/4.  
  
"Vicki, why were you making up all those lies about last night and making fun of the Weasleys?"  
  
"Oh Harry," she said as she playfully hit him, "they take everything to seriously, and so do you! I was just kidding around."  
  
Harry definitely knew that she had meant every word that she said, but when she flashed him that dazzling smile of hers, she ignored the right thing pressing in on her brain and his heart melted into hers again. 


	6. SIXTH CHAPTER!

After collecting two trolleys to carry their luggage to Platform 9 and 3/4, Mrs. Weasley summoned the fourp eople to follow her to the platform.  
  
As they reached the "entrance" to the platform, Mrs. Weasley, who was still acting rather coldly towards Harry, said, miffed, "Harry . . . you are to go through first with . . . Ron."  
  
He nodded, looked at Ron, who was apparently doing his best not to look back, and went to stand next to him, pushing his luggage trolley along with him.  
  
"Hey."  
  
No reply.  
  
Harry decided it would be best to shut up and he'd talk to him once they got on the train.  
  
"Ready?" Harry asked, quietly.  
  
Ron nodded curtly, and began running ahead of Harry. He disappeared instants before Harry felt himself materialize and the scarlet steam engine came into view, with "Hogwarts Express" engraved in the front of it.  
  
Harry, suddenly feeling better, looked towards Ron and said, "Want to sit with me on the trai--"  
  
"No," Ron said quickly, as he saw Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, waving at them, and running to join them.  
  
Quickly, Vicki appeared beside him, and Harry decided she would sit with him.  
  
"So, where do you want to sit?"  
  
She didn't even turn to reply before she ran off with her trolley to meet some of the girls she hadn't seen all summer.  
  
Harry, feeling particularly disgrunlted, made his way through the crowds of people in order to find an empty compartment on the train. They were full of friends greeting friends and people having fun. He looked forward, as it was irritating to see these cordial and happy people when he was so miserable.  
  
Harry finally found a compartment at the very end of the train, entered, and started heaving his bags and trunks up onto the luggage rack.  
  
After he finished this, he flumped onto the couch and sat there, looking gloomily out the window at the now cheery Mrs. Weasley seeing her two children off onto the train. Vicki was nowhere in sight, probably off with her girlfriends discussing who and where they had met this summer.  
  
And then it hit him.  
  
Where was Hermione?  
  
She had surely been there the night before he had gone to Sirius' funeral, and apparently wasn't there when he came back from staying with Annabelle. Where had she gone? It was almost weird how he hadn't even noticed her absence, she had gone so quietly and furtively.  
  
He heard a knock at the door.  
  
"Come in," he said despondently.  
  
The door slid open, and oddly enough, it was Hermione.  
  
"Hermione, where have you been? After the funeral, I didn't even notice you were gone!"  
  
"Nevermind that . . . you'll never believe what I've just heard! Actually, you'll be quite joyous indeed!"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Malfoy . . . Draco . . . he's gone to a different wizarding school up north! People are saying that it's Durmstrang, but everyone knows that that was shut down after they found Karkaroff . . . rumor is that it's started up again! But I won't believe it 'til I hear it from Dumbledore . . . but anyway, apparently his father, Lucius, just got so fed up with teachings of Dumbledore and of Muggle-loving and such, so he sent him somewhere else!"  
  
Harry's stomach did flip-flops. This day was turning out not so bad. Malfoy . . . gone! Not another ugly, disgusting remark towards them . . . no more mockery of he and his friends. This had made his day much happier indeed!  
  
"Are you sure?" Harry asked.  
  
"Positive . . . heard it from Pansy Parkinson and a bunch of Slytherins."  
  
"That's . . . great!" Harry said, smiling.  
  
"Yeah . . ."  
  
"So, wait, Hermione, where have you been exactly?"  
  
"Harry, I was . . . I was . . . I was with some friends from London. They wanted to see me immediately. A relative of mine is . . . sick. They just don't know if she's going to make it."  
  
"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry. Have you told Ron?"  
  
"No . . . he seems to be in a very bad mood lately. I tried talking to him, but he's sitting all alone in a compartment. It seems as if he's very upset about something."  
  
"I know what he is upset about."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I'm guessing that he's mad that I didn't tell him about me and Victoria. Well, in case you didn't know, me and Vicki are getting married once we get out of school this year."  
  
"Are you serious? Congratulations . . . I'm not saying that she's the best choice for your wife, no offense, but . . . congratulations. I will certainly be at your wedding."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Surely."  
  
"Yeah . . ."  
  
"Well, I better be off to see Ron and see what his point of view is on things, and I'll see what I can tell you later. I'll probably see you before we get to Hogwarts, bye!"  
  
It was the weirdest feeling ever. As Hermione left the compartment, Harry realized that this was teh first time that he, Hermione, and Ron hadn't spent the trip to Hogwarts together. He felt as if they were growing further and further apart, and he didn't like that feeling at all. It was horrible to think that the three of them wouldn't be friends.  
  
He tried to retire this thought and went back to staring out the window. Absentmindedly, the train had apparently started to move and they were now speeding along, following a rural scenery. It was beautiful.  
  
Around midday, Harry was still staring out the window, taking in the view of the countryside. The lunch trolley came along, with the plump little fat witch, asking him whether he'd like some lunch.  
  
He said he would, and bought some Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, three Cauldron Cakes, and a bunch of Chocolate Frogs with some of the left-over Galleons he'd had from when Vicki went to Diagon Alley for him.  
  
He looked sadly at the mountains of food he had next to him, and gloomily pushed it away at the fact that he had no one to share it with.  
  
It was then that he decided he needed to talk to Ron. He was going to find him.  
  
He got up and slid open the door, looked down both ends of the train. A few doors were slid open, and he could hear a few voices coming from within. No one was in the corridor, thankfully, and Harry turned left and started walking.  
  
He must've walked past the compartment that Vicki was in, as he heard her voice inside. He paused and stood next to the door to listen.  
  
"So wait, you spent a whole night with him in his bed and he didn't even pull one move on you?" one of her girlfriends said.  
  
"No, it was very innocent. I just loved being in the same bed with him. He's so muscular and just took me in with his arms."  
  
"Sounds pretty lame to me," the same girl said.  
  
'It wasn't . . . as I laid there that night, it was almost as if I was seeing into his soul, what he's all about. Even though he may be brave on the outside, he's got a lot of insecurities and fears inside. I just wish he'd open up to me more . . . oh yeah, by the way, we're getting married."  
  
"WHAT?" a voice he recognized said, it was Susan Bones.  
  
"Yes . . . it's true!"  
  
"You didn't even tell me! I'm your best friend!" Susan yelled.  
  
"Yeah, I know, but still . . . we only got engaged last night ."  
  
"Oh . . ."  
  
Harry continued walking down the corridor, smiling to himself from the news of Vicki's confession.  
  
He came to a door that was slid open a half-inch and looked inside. Indeed, it was Ron. Hermione was sitting with him. She was talking to him in a very soothing tone.  
  
'Ron, why do you have to be so hostile? Harry's still your best friend . . . things aren't going to change after they get married . . ."  
  
"Of course they will! I don't see why he has to get married so quickly . . . we'll never have time to experience other women together, or, or, or . . . or to talk about other girls . . . why does he have to tie the knot so early? He's already consumed with Vicki . . . that girl's got it in for him! Think of how much time she will demand of him when they're married! Why do things always have to change? I can tell how much we've grown apart these past years! We're just not the same people anymore . . . and that . . . and that's the thing that hurts."  
  
At that last remark, Ron completely had broken down into tears. Hermione moved towards him and hugged him. Hermione was now facing Harry, and saw that he was at door. She mouthed to him, "Harry, not now."  
  
He turned right and started walking back down the corridor. He felt . . . horrible.  
  
As he entered the compartment again, he kicked the bunch of candy he had on the floor and pushed his vase of flowers off the table next to the window. Why did he always have to mess things up for him and Ron? 90% of the time it was his own fault.  
  
He sat down on the seat and put his face in his hands. He sat up, ran his hands through his hair. He didn't know what to do. Things were so different now.  
  
What Harry needed was a nap.  
  
So he slept. 


End file.
